


Splash

by Cyberrat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU - Merman, Human!Stiles, Hypnotism, M/M, Merman!Derek, Mourning, no self harm, slight depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had been out on the beach for so long and so often - but he had never heard something like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Splash

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to post smth that's not dirtybadwrong for once^^

Stiles has felt drawn to the water since his mother died. He likes to sit there and just stare at the dark waves rolling against the shore and he likes the feel of wet sand or hard stone beneath him.

He loved those hours of solitude and peacefulness. They seemed to be the only time his hyperactive mind really went placid and just rolled with the slow movements of the water. It was more restful than sleep, that was for sure.

He has a special spot on the beach. A spot that is close to the jagged rocks of the cliff and seldom gets crowded by tourists – only the occasional jogger trotting close to just nod at him and be on their way without him needing to say anything at all.

So when he hears it – the low humming that crawls into his core and makes his bones vibrate – he feels almost kind of… _betrayed_. The humming doesn’t come from an engine. It’s too melodic and _strange_. It sure as hell doesn’t come from the water. Stiles knows every sound of breaking waves and splashing tides.

The humming strums a chord within him; pulls at the yearning he had felt since his mother passed away and left a gaping hole in his chest. It pulls at the frayed edges of that hole and seems to simultaneously distend and pull them together. The sensation makes his head spin and his hands clammy.

He needs to find the source of the humming.

It is easy, really. Pushing himself up, his feet in those scuffed trainers drag him along the coast, over jagged rocks and slippery sand. It’s dangerous. He knows it – somewhere in the back of his head, he knows that he’s being stupid… out here all alone. It would need only one wrong step to slip and fall into the crashing waves.

Stiles isn’t suicidal – he really isn’t. And yet… and _yet_. That _humming_. It’s filling his head and his chest, sitting there and stretching out like a cat… all warm and content while sharp claws pluck at those hurting, hurting, _hurting_ frayed edges.

And then there are words. Words interwoven into the dark sound of the song. Stiles can’t even put his fingers on them. He can’t tell one word from another. It could be a whole different language… but the message is clear. So clear.

_Come to me. I’ll heal you_.

And he wants the pain to go away. He wants it _so bad_. He knows his Dad told him it’d never fully leave, but it will dull to bearable levels. He’d be able to live with it. But this voice… it promises so much!

His head is pulsing with the dark song. The pain swells and ebbs with the purring vocals curling around his shoulders and drawing him closer. Drawing him in into a web of secrets and sweet assurances.

Stiles slips once in his haste – hasn’t even realized how eagerly he was scrambling across the rocks by now. He slices the palm of his hand but doesn’t even feel it. He stares at the blood seeping out the shallow crack for a second before the voice picks up again. It feels like tiny hooks had taken hold in his skin and were _pulling him forward_.

It’s when he finally rounds a corner that he sees the source of the low, seducing song.

It’s a man – half hidden by the rocks of the small island he’s sitting on. Stiles freezes on the spot, a strange awareness trickling through his body as he sees broad shoulders and a muscular chest with hair just as dark as the one on the man’s head.

He’s gorgeous – in a wild, untamed sort of way. There’s scruff on his jaw and his thick eyebrows are drawn together as if he’s perpetually angry with something. He’s staring out at the sea while his lips are moving, the song getting pushed out effortlessly.

Stiles feels his stomach clench. It’s ridiculous, really… but for a second he had thought… well. He had _thought_ … He had thought the song was for _him_. But the man looked deep in thoughts, sitting there on the island and staring broodingly out into the grey sea.

It’s only when the wind picks up and blows into his face that Stiles realizes his cheeks are wet. He doesn’t know how long he’s been crying, but it is _humiliating_. He’s sixteen now. He shouldn’t be crying like a little boy anymore.

He definitely shouldn’t be crying because he thought a beautiful song full of promises had been for _him_.

The boy plops down where he sits, burying his face behind knees that he pulled up to his body. The sudden movement seemed to have alerted the man to him because the beautiful deep song cuts abruptly off, leaving Stiles feel only all the more _alone_.

He peeks up. The man _is_ staring at him. He realizes he has the most gorgeous green eyes. Just like the ocean on a beautiful, sunny day. The man looks grave – but at the same time _confused_ as if he couldn’t fathom why Stiles was sitting there.

Stiles shot him a trembling, watery smile. “I’m sorry, Dude. I didn’t want to interrupt you. You got an amazing voice, is all.”

‘And it promised me to take the pain away.’

The grave look leaves. Now, the man just looks _shocked_. Like someone had sucker-punched him to the gut. All the colour leaving his face until Stiles hectically tries to fathom what he had said. Had he insulted the man?

The song hadn’t been in English. Maybe the man didn’t speak his language and he had unwittingly threatened to murder him… maybe…

…a movement just behind the man interrupted Stiles’ train of thought. He blinked a couple times, frowning and squinting his eyes as he tried to see what was behind the man that was still mostly hidden by all the rocks he was lounging between.

The boy’s gut clenched as he saw something _large_. Something _long_ and _scaly_ and eerily snake-like. He felt like he was going to get sick, fingers digging into his jeans so hard that he can feel the cut from before pulsing again with a new trickle of blood.

_What the hell was out there?!_

The scaly creature was moving lazily – slowly undulating in a way that made the little light that filtered through the grey clouds in the sky reflect from the many blue-green scales.

It moved _unnaturally_. Winding and seemingly getting _closer_ to the man that was still sitting there and staring at Stiles like… like… Stiles couldn’t even decipher that look of shock and betrayal.

“Look out!” He screamed, jumping up and gesticulating wildly with both arms. “Look out! Behind you!!”

The man’s head snapped around, telling Stiles that he obviously understood those words, at least. There was a breathless second in which everything just seemed to _stop_.

Stiles froze, arms stupidly thrust into the air, his warnings dying on his lips while his heart was beating a fast, painful tattoo against his ribs. In his mind, he’s trying to calculate how long it’d take until he’d get to the man on the island – until he could help him somehow against whatever thing had sneaked up on him.

He’s still trying to figure out how strong the waves between himself and the rocky platform are, when the guy turns around, large hands gripping easily onto the sharp tips of rocks and impressive arm muscles bulging as he pulls himself forward towards the edge.

Stiles can only watch in horror as the mysterious singer pulls himself in short, practiced strokes over the hard rocks – never once sparing another glance towards Stiles, as he plunges head first into the roiling depths.

There isn’t even the sound of a body hitting the water or getting swallowed up.

Stiles’ legs are trembling so bad, he has to sit down. His eyes are fixed on the spot the man had vanished. He prays the body will re-emerge. He prays he hasn’t just seen a man commit suicide.

He wonders, in the back of his head, whether he’d seen correctly.

He wonders whether there had been scales swallowing up the legs of the man, and whether there really had been a large, nearly translucent fin at the end, shimmering faintly before slipping soundlessly into the water.

He wonders.

He wonders.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: psychopath-of-asgard. Thank you, dear :)
> 
> Still here? Liked it? Why don't you leave a little something on your way out :)
> 
> You can also join [ me ](http://cyberratting.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, where I also accept your prompts and have a few ficlets that I didn't post on here... go check it out! (Important: I can't accept prompts made on here because it's really hard to keep track of them. Please, please submit them on tumblr.)


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